My name is Sungmin and I am neither a writer nor an early riser by any means. But I am in love with the light, golden mornings of Seoul. Odd but true. Between the skyscrapers and concrete the noisy mornings of Seoul are beautiful. There is the sound of the horn of a milkman who gets up early to make his delivery on time. There is the sound of a kettle boiling water to make some tea. And then there is the sound of chirping of birds mixed with all this. This is the hour where Seoul is most alive. When given a chance, my mornings won't start until the clock is shouting 'midday'. But as my life would have it, I always find myself something that forces me out of the bed even before the sun rises. But it was alright for I was in love with the sunlight that likes to play hide and seek among the buildings of the age-new skyscrapers, I was in love with morning dew that would make my feet wet while I walk on my balcony view. And as the day would end and night would arrive, it always left me with the urge to explain my feelings in terms of paper and ink.

People say that the more Seoul is growing, the less the love can be seen here. People have fallen in so deeply for their jobs that the real love just seems like a fairy tale spoken among the two hundred pages of a sappy novel. It is just word that is related to a three hour movie that the local public enjoys and even then, it just fades away in their memory. If by mistake, it happened in some corner café then that's just it. It will last for a week or by most, for a month. You will find these lovers making out behind a tree or sometimes on the bike when you stand waiting for the traffic lights to turn green. After that, just like the advertisements of "Fast track watches" both parties will leave the premises and the feeling of belonging, of attachment, will vaporize.

But once, on one fine morning, I got to see that famous Novel's love out of the book. I never got to know their names but after observing them for some time, it seemed that they both were madly in love. At exactly 7:45, they would arrive at the railway station. Sometimes even holding hands and blushing, though the man would always try to hide it. Sometimes they would just stand apart, their hands brushing and both seeking each other's faces while the other was not looking. Both sparkling… both smiling. After watching them, I always got this feeling that I have seen them in some Cho's soap-detergent ad. They both had the demanding personalities, what with the lady having chocolate brown hair and the man having an appearance as if he is going for a photo-shoot. And that's why I named them "Mr. and Mrs. Cho".

Yes, Mr. Cho...and Mrs. Cho…

The moment the train arrived, Mrs. Cho would help Mr. Cho to adjust his office bag on his shoulders and then would hold his hand while making their way towards the crowded entrance of the train. Mr. Cho would hold her as if his life depended on it and the blush that would spread on the lady's face would have made any rose die of shame. After them, I would follow.

They always sat on the same seats- the one at the back on right hand side. Mrs. Cho would sit on the window side, her hairs flying in the wind and Mr. Cho would sit beside her trying not to notice the accidental brush that he get from the chocolate colored strands on his cheek.

The train would start and out would come Mr. Cho's long awaited newspaper and Mrs. Cho's bundle of wool. Red colored wool with which she would start knitting a sweater.

Some days, they would just sit silently, each minding their own business and looking like they were content with just being in each other's company.

Some days, they would leave work and Mrs. Cho would put her head on Mr. Cho's shoulders and would close her eyes as if any moment she would go to sleep.

Some days, they would start talking and of what they spoke of I never found out.

They were probably in their late twenties and looked like they were just married. I was sure of it, for many times I have caught Mrs. Cho watching her threaded fingers with Mr. Cho where their wedding rings rested. The soft glow that she would get in her eyes as if she couldn't believe that she was married spoke of itself. Whether it was a love marriage or arranged, I never knew. But I like to think that maybe they were the types who ran away together due to family's objection. I could probably be wrong, of course. After all, Mr. Cho didn't seem like a man who runs away.

Days passed and then months. Things never changed. They would always come at 7:45 and would always sit in the same seats. When the last second station arrives, Mrs. Cho would give a squeeze to Mr. Cho's hand, would peck him on the cheeks and would leave the train. I once caught her climbing on the train that would take her back to the station from where we started. Why was she going back home? Did she forget something?

I got accustomed to watching them each day. Sometimes they would catch me looking at them and I would give a small smile and would turn away. I never talked to them but now it seems as if I had known them my whole life. The way Mr. Cho would look at Mrs. Cho, the way she would blush when she caught him doing that, the teasing that would soon follow was all that kept me riding on that train every day.

I remember one day in particular. Affectionately, I like to call it 'A day of first-times' .Once, Mrs. Cho complained that Mr. Cho was too evil to be her husband. Mr. Cho just smirked and continued reading his newspaper completely disregarding her. She huffed and puffed her cheeks like a school girl. Two stations passed and they were sitting in the same position. Then suddenly, Mrs. Cho had a mischievous look in her eyes. She turned towards her husband and smiled. He just raised his eyebrow and seemed weary of what would happen next. It turned out; he was right for then Mrs. Cho jumped on him and started tickling him. It was the first time I saw the man laugh.

After watching him, I couldn't stop myself and started laughing too. Big mistake on my part for it bought me the attention of the Cho couple. Mrs. Cho just smiled at me and Mr. Cho glared with a small blush apparent on his face. I turned away but kept on looking at them from the corner of my eyes. Noticing that I was no longer looking, Mr. Cho pointed his glare at the lady and said something that suspiciously sounded like "You are just as evil". I could be wrong because instead of shouting at him for being rude, Mrs. Cho just started laughing as if they were sharing some private joke. At that point, I realized why Mr. Cho was so in love with this woman. Her laugh was like a disease that would spread far and wide if you are not careful. It was like even the second's hand of the clock has stopped moving just so that all I could hear would be her magical laugh and would even join in. Her cute button-up nose scrunched and her face glowed. It was the first time I was jealous of Mr. Cho.

Before I could contemplate what I was feeling, Mr. Cho suddenly did something unexpected. He captured the lady's chin and painfully slowly captured her lips in his. I was very much surprised and it looked like so was the lady. With all my observation, I could give a guarantee that Mr. Cho was against any type of PDA. After all, he would always hide his face behind his newspaper every time Mrs. Cho did something slightly romantic. Their kiss was small and must have lasted only for a few seconds. It was the only kiss I ever saw them sharing. But it was the most passionate thing I had ever seen. After the kiss ended, Mr. Cho again opened his newspaper and started reading as if he didn't do anything out of the blue just a minute ago. Mrs. Cho just looked at him for a minute and then slowly a bright, beautiful smile spread on her face. It was a smile that she bestowed only on Mr. Cho. Even now, the first thing that I ever remember of her is that smile.

Time passed by and the ball of wool grew smaller and smaller. It was turning out to be a beautiful sweater. Mrs. Cho would always, each day diligently work on it. First she completed its neck and then it's front. Then came it's back and rest of the sweater. She made a cherry-blossom design on the edges. One day she even completed the sweater's right sleeve. Great! Now all she had to do was complete the second sleeve. I have never seen her as happy as she was looking that day.

The next day, I obediently came at the right time and stood on the station. But the Cho couple never came. Days turned into weeks, but I waited. My anxiety was increasing rapidly. My curiosity was begging me to do something about it. I never knew when it happened, but they both had become a part of my day and without them, I couldn't shake this empty feeling that was growing in my chest. I wanted to inform the police but where would I start? I didn't even know their names. Maybe Mr. Cho got transferred? Maybe Mrs. Cho wanted to go on a vacation? But I was never an optimistic person and the more I would think of them the more I would think of many bad endings to their story.

One day, my prayers were answered and I again saw Mr. Cho standing on the station. I smiled to myself and scanned the surrounding but Mrs. Cho was nowhere in sight. I panicked and ran towards Mr. Cho. He turned and looked at me but didn't say a word. All I wanted was to ask him about his wife but it was going to be the first time I was ever going to talk to him. I cleared my throat and he just raised his eyebrow. I smiled between my cheeks. Mrs. Cho was right when she said that her husband had the most expressive eyebrows one could ever see.

"Do you remember me, Mr. C-… I-I mean, Sir?" I asked hesitantly.

He scrunched his eyes and regarded me for some time. Then he nodded his head and said, "You are the one who would always stare at my wife."

Oops! Well I guess I did pass as a stalker. But he was wrong. I don't stare at his wife. I stare at them. With a sheepish look on my face, I asked him softly.

"What happened sir? You came alone today?"

"Hn."

The train had arrived and we climbed it. I thought Mr. Cho will elaborate himself but he never did. I noticed that he didn't take his usual seat but rather stood at the door. I took a place beside him and contemplated whether I should push him further. I huffed and made my decision. I hadn't waited for so long to be just ignored.

"Where is your wife, sir?"

He glared. Not the soft one that he would usually throw at me when he would catch me looking at them, but rather a very mean one.

"What's it to you, huh? Who are you anyway?"

"I-I am sorry. It's just I have become accustomed to see you together. Nothing else."

We stood there in silence. The train was moving and so was the wind. But for me it seemed as if everything was standing still. What really happened between the Cho's? Did they have a fight? Mr. Cho did seem kind of tired. His clothes were dirty and even his always-so-perfectly-kept-hair was messed up. But the worst things were his eyes. There was just no spark in them. As if even the small task of breathing was all too much for him. He looked like a dead man walking.

He must have sensed my inquisitive stare because he sighed and then looked at me.

"She was stupid, okay?" He said. "She had cancer. She wanted to spend some time with me so she used to climb the train too. I-I told her not to, but she won't listen. I hate her."

I was shocked. I could hear my heart thumping in my chest and could feel my ears burning. But other than that everything felt numb.

Mrs. Cho died.

She is dead.

She is

Dead.

This mantra kept on repeating in my head. I still could not believe it. Mrs. Cho was so nice and sweet and happy. I could have never guessed that she was sick. Suddenly, I realized something. I have never talked with her. For months we have been catching the same train and I didn't even wave at her. But maybe it was for the best. After all, she died, didn't she? Becoming friends with her would have just increased my pain.

The train stopped at the second last station. But today, there was no Mrs. Cho making her way towards the exit. Some people entered the train and some left. Suddenly, life started looking like a train too. Some people would move on to next station and some would be left behind.

I and Mr. Cho just stood there in silence. The train started moving again. I wanted to say something, to console him. There were thousands of words that I could have said. Thousands of sentences that I could have uttered.

"I am sorry."

…That was not one of them.

The train stopped at the last station and we both made our way towards the plat form.

"I wanted to stay with her, you know. But we needed the money to pay for the medication. And even then I c-couldn't save her. I hate her."

Mr. Cho caught me by surprise. I wasn't expecting him to say something.

"Why? Why do you hate her? It wasn't her fault that she was sick."

Mr. Cho just turned away and if I hadn't been observing him, I would have missed the words that he said then.

"I hate her…for she made me promise not to follow her…"

I should have cried then. It was a sad story. But I didn't.

At least not until I noticed what Mr. Cho was wearing.

My break down in the middle of a railway station got me many different reactions.

Some just walked by.

Some gave me curious glances.

Some offered me handkerchiefs.

But nobody spared a second for the grieving man who was just walking away…

Nobody spared a second to the man who was wearing a red colored sweater with its' left sleeve still unfinished…